


he looks in the eyes of the monster

by yellowleader



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Monster Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22772128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowleader/pseuds/yellowleader
Summary: When Tord created the monster serum, he made sure that the monster wouldn't kill him. This has unexpected effects on his accidental subject.
Relationships: Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

The thing is, Tom fucking hates Tord. The second he declared his intent to move out, Tom was helping him pack. He cheerfully threw all of Tord’s shit into suitcases and boxes, scrubbing the common areas clean of any evidence he had ever lived with them, and was up early the day he left to rush him out the door.

As soon as he was gone, Tom took over his room, accepting the raise in his rent in exchange for one little victory over the bastard who plagued him for so long- and a bigger room, of course. Did that mean he found the secret lab? Yeah, of course. He pulled the lever the second he found it, and then poked around Tord’s lab. A few times, actually. Just to really rub it in- not that Tord would ever know, unless he came back for this junk.

When he gets really drunk for the first time after Tord’s move, he wakes up the next day with a pounding headache- naked in Tord’s lab, smashed glass around him, and a nearly empty vial in his hand, only the tiniest dregs of a purple liquid congealing at the bottom. He shrugs it off, head hurting too much to care beyond the safe assumption that he just trashed everything to spite his ex-roommate. After that, he put a picture up over it, hoping that Absolutely Wasted Tom will be too stupid to move it to get into the lab.

The point is that he fucking loathes Tord, so when he comes back, Tom should want to kick his ass- no, better than that, he should run him through with one of his lovely new harpoons. And he does want that, at least until he gets too close to the man breaking into his room and freezes in place, harpoons slipping out of his hands. Tord stares back, shocked at being caught, before his expression slowly shifts. “…hello, old friend!”

Tom chokes out something unintelligible in response, mouth feeling dry. “Tord!” Edd calls, coming up and giving the man a hug. It sends a shudder down Tom’s spine, though he doesn’t know why, and it passes when Edd releases him.

Tord’s giving him an odd look- probably because Tom hasn’t attacked him, or even so much as cursed him out- and it makes him almost nauseous. Though, maybe it’s just seeing Tord’s ugly face. He manages to move one foot at a time, pressing past Tord- careful not to touch him- and unlocking his room.

“Hey, Tom-!” Edd calls after him, but he just- he needs a moment. He shuts the door behind him, and immediately it’s easier to breathe. What was that? Why was he suddenly so… out of control of himself? Well, it’s not the first time he’s felt like that. Sometimes when he’s drunk, or before his ‘blackouts of unknown cause’- which is what he calls losing memories when he specifically isn’t drunk. Tom raises a hand to his mouth, feeling his teeth. Normal. He could have sworn they felt sharper looking at Tord.

He leaves his room when he’s calmed down enough, ready to give Tord a piece of his mind, but is given pause by the new decor. “Tom!” Edd waves at him from one. “Check it out, Tord has portable sofas!” His eyes flit to meet Tord, who’s sitting in a large, comfy-looking armchair, and he’s breathless again- to a lesser degree this time.

“What the fuck,” he manages to murmur.

“I invented them myself,” Tord chuckles, before looking more serious. “It seems I’ve caught you by surprise, my old friend.”

“Not your friend.” His words sound almost slurred, his teeth feeling too big for his mouth again, but he can’t touch them to check out here without looking like a crazy person.

Edd frowns at him. “Tom, come on, did you really lock yourself in your room to drink when we haven’t seen Tord in years?” He didn’t have a drop. “Anyway, we’re trying to figure out where he’s staying.”

“Staying?”

“Yeah, Todd’s moving in!” Matt cheers.

“It’s Tord,” Tom and Tord say in near unison. Tord turns his head to catch Tom’s eyes again, but he won’t meet his gaze as he goes to drape himself over the back of Edd and Matt’s couch.

“Apparently Edd told us a few days ago, but I don’t remember that at all,” Matt continues as if he didn’t hear them.

“I really tried to give you guys fair warning!” Edd says with a sigh. “Anyway, since you have his old room, can’t you go back to yours-?”

“You turned my old room into a pool,” Tom reminds him. It’s a little easier to breathe and talk the further he is from Tord.

“Oh… right. Well, can we fix it?”

“Not in a day, unless Tord has some portable anti-pool thing,” Matt says before looking at Tord with hope in his eyes. It’s crushed when Tord shakes his head no.

“I do miss my old room,” Tord says with a smile. “Tom, couldn’t you take the couch just for a day or two?”

“I’m not leaving you with my stuff,” he tries to snarl, but it comes out weaker, more of a simple statement of fact than the start of a fight.

Edd sits up suddenly. “That’s it! Why don’t you guys just share the room until we can get Tom’s old room set up?” Tom opens his mouth to protest, but Edd keeps talking. “That way Tord gets his room, but Tom doesn’t have to worry about his stuff being unsupervised.”

“…clever!” Tord grins, the smirk of a man getting his way. He probably thinks he can bully Tom out of his room, and with Tom’s odd… reactions, he’s probably right. But on the other hand… Tom doesn’t let people sleep in the same room as him- not Edd and Matt, nor one-night stands, or anyone else. He sleepwalks or something on occasion, waking surrounded by broken objects and the occasional mark in the wall, seemingly made by blades of some kind. Maybe if he sleeps in the same room, Tord will be the one freaked out, and he can sleep on the sofa instead.

Tom has a dark expression, but just nods. Within an hour, he’s sitting on his bed, cross-legged and with a bottle in hand, watching Tord carrying in his suitcases- the same dark red ones he left with, Tom swears, though they look significantly more beat up. As soon as he surrendered himself to this fate, the overwhelming feeling crushing him seemed to have been lifted. Maybe it was just some fucked up level to his anxiety that he didn’t recognize.

“So, how are we doing the bed situation?” Tord asks when his things are in, looking incredibly amused.

“I’m on the floor,” Tom tells him, and he catches that split-second change of Tord’s expression, his eyes cold and analytical before quickly settling back into whatever damn persona he’s been playing this whole time.

“Oh? I thought I’d have to fight you for the bed, but if you’re already willing to take the ground like an animal…”

Tom takes a swig from his Smirnoff, and wipes away a dribble that missed his mouth with his sleeve before getting off the bed. He doesn’t want to give him the fucking satisfaction of a fight. Though… shouldn’t he want to fight Tord himself? He should be swiping at him as he passes, but instead he just throws a blanket and pillow on the floor, right under his lovingly defaced photo of Tord.

After all, there’s a good chance Tord just wanted this room to get his old lab back, and so Tom will make it as difficult as possible.

“…you’ve changed, haven’t you, old friend?” Tord says after a moment of silence.

“I’m not your friend,” Tom says as he lies down. “And it’s none of your damn business if I’ve changed.”

“Hm. But isn’t it? I expected a lot when I came back- maybe a fistfight, or just some arguing at worst-” and Tom can’t help but snort at Tord wanting a fight so badly. “-yet, you seem like just…” Tord can’t seem to find the words.

“I don’t want to talk to you. Or touch you. Or look at you. Rules out the old fighting styles, huh? Maybe we can take up flame wars online.” He rolls over to face the wall as Tord laughs, with seemingly genuine delight. The sound makes him sick.

“Ah, there you are. Classic, stupid Tom. No one calls them ‘flame wars’ anymore.”

The tightness in his chest loosens. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

The lights flicker off, and he heads Tord get into bed before letting himself drift off.

Tom wakes up early in the morning- earlier than he has maybe in months, and he sighs, feeling practically well-rested. A rare occurrence in multiple ways, then. He shifts, but freezes when he feels something moving under his arm, slowly but surely. When he looks, it’s a body, and when he raises his head, it’s Tord’s sleeping face directly in front of him.

He’s horrified in a dozen ways, the number one way being that he finds himself in his bed- meaning, at some point in the night, he crawled into bed with Tord. If it was the other way around, it would mean Tord would be open to mockery, but this? This is Tom who could be insulted to the brink of death. Why the hell did he do this in his sleep…?

Tom’s lucky, managing to pull himself away without waking Tord, though there’s a few moments where Tord shuffles enough to make Tom’s heart stop. He manages to escape, heading to the kitchen and watching the sun rise. When’s the last time he saw this…? He’s not sure, but it’s a calming view, enough to soothe his fast-beating heart.

He chills on the couch as the morning starts, drinking enough coffee to kill an elephant and listening for sounds of life in the house. It isn’t until eight that anyone leaves their room- Tord, looking half-dead, and Tom can’t help but take some satisfaction in that. When Tord notices him, his eyes narrow, and he starts his approach. In return, Tom tries to press back against the arm of the sofa, as if he can get any further away.

Tord reaches out, taking Tom’s latest cup of coffee and ignoring Tom’s sounds of protest as he drinks it. His free hand gives Tom’s hair a tired ruffle, and he tenses under the touch. Frankly, he’s grateful for freezing this time, because his first instinct was to lean into the contact- what is wrong with him?!

Tord walks away without so much as a glance backward, finishing off Tom’s coffee as he goes into the kitchen, and Tom just watches him go. He reaches up, fixing his hair unsurely, before going to check the bedroom. Looks like his stuff is untouched, including the photograph on the wall. He picks up his abandoned bottle from the night before and chugs the last of it, trying to drown out the feeling of Tord’s fingers in his hair. It works, but it makes it harder to hold back the frustrated tears threatening to drip down his face.

The next time he leaves, everyone’s eating breakfast, Edd munching on his cereal so loudly it garbles whatever he’s trying to say. Matt’s talking over him anyway, trying to plan out celebrations for ‘Torb’s’ return, starting with a tour of his novelty toy collection in the attic. Tom stumbles over, not in the best shape after all the caffeine and alcohol he drank with no food in his system.

“Geez, Tim, you look like a mess!” Matt says, before getting out a mirror to check himself- probably to be sure he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Tom. Edd looks worried, but whatever he’s saying, it doesn’t get through the mush in his mouth.

He has to prop himself up against a chair. “Fine, I’m fine, where’s, uh-” he looks down. Sitting in the chair he’s leaning on is Tord. Tom immediately backs up, hands in the air in a defensive stance. Not that he’s scared or anything, but with his reactions in the past day, he’d rather keep at least a few feet between him and Tord at all times.

Edd mumbles more unintelligible words before pointing at an actually empty chair, which Tom immediately collapses into. Edd shoves a plate of toast at him, which he immediately shoves in his mouth, remembering Edd’s manta of ‘eat carbs and drink water if you’re going to get piss drunk, you idiot’. Water will wait- there’s water in all the coffee he had earlier, he thinks- but bread is good.

“You’re not even a functioning alcoholic, are you?” Tord questions, his eyes cold the way they were the night before, though Tom’s not in the right mind to note it. “Just a regular one, hm?”

“Hey,” Edd hisses. “Don’t do that, Tord, things haven’t been easy on him recently-” Tom sinks in his seat, wondering if they’ll stop talking about him if he disappears under the table for a nap. Matt won’t notice, at least, still admiring himself in his hand mirror. “-a big change for everyone, with you coming back, so don’t-”

“Fine, fine!” Tord agrees, looking innocent to all the world. “I’ll be nicer, until he’s out of whatever funk this is. Now… why don’t we spend the day in, since Tom is so… unwell.”

Matt finally looks up. “Yes! You can look at my colle-”

“Let’s watch a movie!” Tord smoothly suggests an alternative. “I’ve got a copy of Return of the Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell 4. It’ll be just like old times.” Tom lets out a neutral grunt, finishing off the last piece of toast before getting up to move to the couch, wanting to get comfy before they can take all the good seats. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Tord calls after him.

Tom takes a seat that lets him lean on one of the arms of the couch. The others soon filter in, Matt claiming the armchair for himself before Edd sits on the opposite side of the sofa. Tord comes in last, and while he could clearly ask Edd to switch with him, instead he just has a sharp-toothed grin as he sits in the center of the sofa.

Tom can feel himself sobering up as the movie plays, but he strongly pretends he isn’t. Why? Because he feels a strong urge to lean into Tord’s side. Even the movie- one that he loves to death- can barely distract him from it, other than the best scenes he has memorized by heart. Tord is just so… so present. Even when he looks at the wall to keep Tord out of the corner of his eye, he can still feel the heat radiating off of him, only inches away, and the smell- the cigar scent clinging to Tord’s hoodie, the faintest hint of his stupid apple-scented shampoo- it’s killing him. He shouldn’t even be able to smell all that- Edd certainly isn’t complaining about it, and he’s probably even closer to Tord than Tom is. He has to pull up his own hoodie to cover his nose and mouth to stifle his senses, but that just leaves him open to ribbing.

“Don’t tell me you’re frightened,” Tord says during a stupid plot scene- there’s no murders in this bit at all! What was even the point?

“Shut up, Tord,” he mutters, muffled by the fabric.

“Oh, are you?” He sounds amazed. “Did you become a, ah, the term is… scaredy-cat?”

“I’m not a coward- you just reek,” he complains. Tord’s face twists in confusion. “Wash your damn clothes sometime. You stink like cigars and-” He pulls down the hoodie for a moment, sniffing and then wrinkling his nose. “And oil, ugh.”

“What are you talking about?” Edd asks. He leans in and sniffs Tord, making him lean away- closer to Tom, who tries to make himself smaller to avoid touching him. “I don’t smell any of that.”

“Well, I do.” He covers the lower half of his face again.

Edd is quickly distracted by the movie again, and Matt never paid them any attention in the first place, but Tom can feel Tord’s eyes on him for the rest of the run time. He refuses to turn and look at him, though, keeping his eyes on the screen, or on the wall behind the television during the duller scenes. The second credits roll, he gets up to go back to his room, wanting as much space between him and Tord as possible, but his ears perk up as he opens his door- he can hear Tord’s voice from all the way over here as he murmurs a soft excuse to Matt and Edd before following.

Tom’s tempted to lock the door. He doesn’t.

He’s sitting on the bed, facing the door when Tord opens it. He steps in, and shuts and locks it behind him. “Thomas,” he greets him, the smile on his face lacking its usual smugness. “Will you answer a few questions for me?”

“No.” But he will, won’t he? He licks his lips nervously, and nearly cuts his tongue on a sharp incisor. Tord’s grin grows wider.

“Tom, did you poke around my room when I left?”

“…if you’re asking about your lab, just say it.”

“Classic, stupid Tom.” Tord takes a few steps closer to the bed. Tom should jump up, tackle him to the ground, knock him unconscious so he can get out of here without feeling like he’s prey about to be slaughtered- but he doesn’t. He’s almost unnaturally calm. “And what did you do in my lab?”

“I don’t know,” he answers.

Tord raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“I was drunk when I really messed with it.”

Tord hums, and takes down the pictures covering the lab, pulling the lever. They together watch as the wall raises, showing the never-cleaned mess of glass and plastic in the middle of the floor. Tord clicks his tongue in annoyance before stepping through the mess carefully, picking up an abandoned vial from the center of the destruction. “Oh, my classic, stupid Tom,” he murmurs. “You really screwed up this time.”

Tom crosses his arms. “What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He steps back out from the lab, and hits the lever again so it closes. He steps close to Tom, and lifts the vial to show him. There’s a bit of dried purple liquid at the bottom. “Do you know what this is, Tom?”

“…no?”

“This was an invention of mine. And it looks like you drank it.”

Oh. Oh, drunk him is an idiot. “Right… so what does it do?”

Tord grins sharply. “It changes your DNA- turning you into a monster.” They both just look at each other before Tord’s face falls. He was clearly expecting a bigger response than a blank look. “A monster? Big black and purple thing? Giant fangs and claws and the ideal weapon?”

“…right.” He glances at the wall- it’s been patched up, but under the blue paint there are some large scratches he always thought he carved into it during his black outs. But maybe not with a weapon.

Tord huffs at the lackluster reaction. “Well? How has it affected you?”

Tom shrugs. “I have blackouts sometimes.” At Tord’s expression, he clarifies. “When I’m not drinking. I wake up with my room trashed.”

“Hm. So, not big enough to outgrow the room,” he mutters with irritation. He opens up a suitcase, unzipping a hidden compartment and pulling out a notebook.

“Are you taking notes?” he asks. What a nerd.

“It was untested on human subjects, Tom. Frankly, you should be dead.”

Tom shrugs. “I should be dead from a lot of things.”

Tord flips through the pages before writing something down. “Ah-” he glances up at Tom, smiling. “Another question. Can you hit me?”

“Huh? Of course I can hit you.” What kind of question is that?

“Try it.” Tord’s grin makes him dizzy.

He stands, clenching his hand into a fist. His nails dig into his palm- more so when he gets nearer to Tord. When he looks down, a little blood is dripping from his hand. He tries to raise it to hit Tord, and it just… doesn’t. The fist unclenches, hand going limp, and he has a stronger dizzy spell, nearly collapsing- the only thing that keeps him from hitting the ground is that he falls against Tord, who drops the notebook in favor of keeping him upright.

Tord starts laughing maniacally, but Tom can’t bring himself to care- why was he trying to hit Tord again? This, this closeness, it’s so much better… He rests his head on Tord’s shoulder, breathing deeply to try to get ahold of himself, but it doesn’t help, just overwhelming him with the scents that make up Tord.

“Ah, Tom,” he says, seemingly started his evil monologue or whatever, but Tom pays it no mind, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Uh. Tom?” Why does he have to talk right now? Tom nuzzles against his neck, and feels Tord tense, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. “Oh no.” He lets out a vague questioning noise in response, but Tord doesn’t answer him, instead starting to drag him along.

Tord manages to get Tom’s arm off of him before sitting him on the bed and getting the length of the room between them. Tom takes a deep breath when he’s gone, clearing his head. “What- why the- I didn’t want to do that-!”

“Well… I, ah… I put in a failsafe,” Tord slowly explains. “If you can call it that. Essentially, you can’t hurt me. I thought it’d only work in monster form, but I also thought the test subject would be a monster all the time, so… I guess it went a little too far, and now you’re… soft.”

“I am not soft!”

“What else would you call trying to cuddle with me?”

Tom sputters, but doesn’t really have a good defense. Instead, he pulls his hood up to cover his face, not wanting to give Tord the satisfaction of seeing him blush.

Tord continues without his input. “There’s a good chance it will fade over time as you adjust to my presence. Then again, maybe it won’t, and you’ll always be trying to crawl into bed with me.” Tom tenses, and Tord laughs. “Oh, I thought so!”

“Eat shit.”

“I could tell something had changed while I was-”

“Go die.”

When his laughter trails off, he smiles at him, walking slowly to approach him. “My classic, stupid Tom. You know, I only came here with the intent of staying for a short time… but I think I’ll be here for a while yet. After all, I can’t let my greatest success go unsupervised.” He knocks back Tom’s hood and runs his hand through his hair. He wants to protest, but can’t bring himself to do anything but lean into the touch.

This will be… fine, he thinks. As long as these feelings fade.

He couldn’t stand actually liking Tord for the rest of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote the sequel

“Now, if you’ll stay still for a moment…”

“Mm.”

“There.” Tord examines the vial of Tom’s blood before setting it aside. “I’ll see what I can do with that, later. Now, up for a few more tests?”

“Mm.” He has his head turned away, glaring at the blueprint drawing of a monster behind him.

“Don’t be difficult.”

Tom scoffs, crossing his arms. It’s been a week of Tord running his ‘exploratory experiments’- testing Tom’s strength, mental state, and senses. It’s also been incredibly boring. Everything is within ‘normal human range’, apparently, except his senses- but almost exclusively when it comes to Tord. He’s only become more sensitive, able to smell or hear him from a room away.

“Come on,” Tord coos, running a hand through his hair like that’ll make him cave. Well, it has, multiple times, but he refuses to play happy test subject any longer. “I’m going to see if we can figure out what will make you transform.”

That gets Tom’s attention, though. He looks back at Tord and raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

Tord pulls his hand back, and Tom tries not to noticeably frown at the loss. “Yes! You’ve shown almost no change in this form, except for your teeth changing shape-” ugh, and wasn’t that an embarrassing thing to learn, when he was, uh, ‘under Tord’s effect’ (read- out of his mind on Tord’s scent) and nipped at his shoulder, breaking skin with sharp fangs. Tord adored it as blackmail material, less so as proof that Tom could hurt him accidentally.

“-and so, I’d like to see what changes there are in monster form.” Tord takes some notes. “I’m expected increased strength, considering the damage you’ve shown me from previous transformations, and some size growth, maybe a change in temperament-”

“Maybe I’ll kill you,” Tom says casually.

“You’re already too soft as a human, and it was only supposed to affect you in monster form. Maybe you’ll be even more clingy that way-”

“I’m not clingy!” he protests, wincing at how loud he sounds in the echoing lab. “And even if I was as a monster or whatever, maybe I’d crush you to death or something.”

“Possible, but unlikely,” Tord says, writing more. “You’re rather-”

Someone tries the bedroom door, and Tord goes silent as a voice calls out through it. “Hey, Tord, Tom, are you guys in there?” Edd calls out.

Tord huffs, a clear look of irritation on his face. Tom watches his expression- in the lab, Tord tends to be more open, whether he realizes it or not. Showing irritation at his ‘best friend’ Edd has come up a few times, though Matt gets the worst scowls when he calls the wrong name through the door. “Yes, Edd, what is it?” Tord asks.

“Matt and I are going out to lunch! Wanna come with?”

Tom hops off the table he was sitting on and throws on his jacket from where it was strewn over Tord’s toxic barrels. “I’ll go,” he calls out, walking down the steps.

“Tom,” Tord hisses, and he hesitates. He’s come to recognize that Tord using his name brings him an… odd calming sensation. He doesn’t think Tord’s realized it yet, because he isn’t abusing it, but it definitely affects him in some way.

“I haven’t eaten today,” he says before continuing to walk down.

“You said you did!” Yeah, well, Tom’s a liar. “Ugh, I would have waited to take your blood if I’d known,” Tord says, shrugging off his lab coat. (What a nerd.) “I will as well!” he calls out louder for Edd to hear.

“Nice! The diner it is!”

Tom hits the lever as soon as Tord’s out of the lab, shutting it off. It’s odd how quickly he’s adjusted to this odd new routine, but it’s fine. For now, anyway. Tord swears that the awful affect he has on Tom should probably eventually start to fade a little, and he’s begging for it to come soon- because then he’ll kick Tord out of his room, literally.

As it is, Tord throws an arm over Tom’s shoulders, and it takes all his willpower to keep from leaning into his side as he’s led along out of their temporarily shared room. Tord does this specifically to bother him, and what’s annoying is how little it does. The contact is… nice, and what’s worrying is how much of that is the monster in him, and how much is his own self.

After all, human contact is few and far between for Tom. Edd or Matt might give him the shortest, quickest hugs, but even that is rare, and Tord keeping him close like this is a whole other demon. It’s… disgusting, he has to convince himself. It’s annoying. He hates it. Right?

Tom reaches up and slowly pulls Tord’s hand off of him before stepping away. He can’t even try to slap his hand off without freezing up, so he has to be slow and deliberate to not hurt Tord. That genuinely is a pain in the ass. Tord rolls his eyes, smile pinned carefully in place as they join the others at the front door.

“You guys are always locked up in your room,” Matt complains when they get outdoors, watching Tom squint at the bright sun. “What are you even doing in there?”

“It does feel like we barely see you two… I’m glad you came with us, though,” Edd says.

“Ah, we are just bonding!” Tord says, throwing his arm over Tom’s shoulders again.

“Arguing,” he corrects. “We’re just arguing.” He delicately moves Tord’s arm again, and ignores the way Tord huffs at the rejection.

“Yeah, but there aren’t even any bruises on you!” Matt points out. “You fight, right? Edd says you used to fight each other.”

“Yeaaah, that is suspicious,” Edd says, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s why I said ‘arguing’. We’re trying this whole thing called not punching each other,” Tom sighs. “I do miss punching him,” he adds, almost wistful.

That wipes the suspicious look off of Edd’s face as he sighs and shakes his head. “Well, that’s… something. I honestly thought Tom was going to deck you when you first showed up,” he tells Tord as he unlocks the car. Tom heads to the front seat, but Matt dives in through the window to get there first. He yelps in pain, having hit his head on the arm rest. Tom just gets in the back instead.

“Good thing he did not,” Tord says simply, shooting Tom a quick smirk. Tom opens the window as Edd turns on the car, needing air that doesn’t smell like Tord.

“Oh, come on, it’s cold!”

“It’s pretty chilly,” Tord agrees with Matt. He clearly just wants to torture Tom… or force him to transform by making him feel too… ‘soft’, as he puts it.

“You can put up with it. It’s not even that long of a drive,” Tom argues.

“Can’t you put up with it, then?” Matt asks. Before he can come up with a good counter, Edd takes over by using his buttons at the front to roll up the window. Bastard.

He scowls and pulls his hoodie up to cover his nose, the filter helping a little. He can still smell him, of course, but it’s dulled enough to help him keep control over himself. Tord decides to up the ante by repositioning himself diagonally, one of his legs going to Tom’s side of the backseat to bump into his. There’s only so much Tom can move away, so instead he brings his feet up onto the seat with him, arms wrapped around them to keep them up. Tord kicks him in the side.

“Stop it!” Edd says suddenly, glaring at them in the rearview mirror. “I can hear you guys fighting!”

“I’m not even doing anything!” Tom protests immediately, still muffled by his hoodie.

“Cut it out anyway!”

Tom groans, and lets his feet touch the floor of the car again. Tord smiles victoriously and bumps his foot again. Tom ignores it.

Before the car’s even come to a full stop in the parking lot, Tom hops out, breathing deeply when he’s away from Tord. He can already tell this lunch trip was a mistake. He should have stayed home to let Tord mess with him privately, instead of in front of their friends. Or his friends, anyway. He doesn’t know how much Tord cares about the others right now, with how obsessively focused he is on Tom.

And sure enough, as soon as they’re led to a table, Tord grabs his wrist and drags him to one side of the table, shoving him into the booth and sitting down to keep him trapped between him and the wall. Edd squints at them again before sitting down on the opposite side.

Tom stares blankly at the menu, not really seeing it, as he tries to ignore the man pressed up against his side. It’s impossible. He flips through the pages idly, trying to focus on it enough to pick out a meal, but he just… can’t.

In what seems like no time at all, the waitress is taking their order. When it comes to him, he shakes his head.

“Huh? Tom, why’d you even come, then?” Matt asks, and he shrugs.

“You’re getting something to eat,” Tord tells him before looking at the waitress. “He’ll have pancakes and bacon.”

“I don’t need you to order for me-” he starts, bristling.

“-apparently I do, since you didn’t eat breakfast either and lied to me about it-”

“I forgot! And it didn’t really matter, anyway-”

Tord jabs him in the side. “You really don’t take any care of yourself at all, do you, you disaster of a man? My classic, stupid Tom.” The waitress takes this chance to escape and put in their orders. Tom sighs irritably, though the tenseness drains from him at Tord saying his name.

The table is silent for a moment before Edd stands up, pointing at them over the table. “That’s it! That’s what’s going on!”

“What-?” Tord starts to question, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you two dating?!” Edd asks, far too loud.

“What?!” Tom’s too loud to his own ears, too. “No! Why the hell would you think that-?” But, oh goddamn, thinking back on it, that’s absolutely how they must have come off, right? Locking themselves in their shared room for hours a day, leaving it only for Tord to be uncharacteristically handsy, but just with Tom… And then the conspicuous lack of bruising that would normally accompany them interacting with each other…

Tord’s laughing, face buried in his arms to muffle it. “No,” Tom hisses at him. “Don’t just laugh, tell him we’re not- Tord, seriously- you dickhead, tell him we’re not dating-!”

Noticing the looks from other customers, Edd drops back into his seat and lowers his voice- only a little, though. “Listen, it’s fine if you are, it’s just shocking, okay? Of anyone, I’d never think it was you two-”

“Because it isn’t!”

Matt looks to be thinking hard. “Hm… I did think you two rooming together was mildly suspicious-”

“We only roomed together because Edd said to! And- we’re supposed to be fixing my old room, why hasn’t anyone done that yet?”

“Why haven’t you?” Edd countered. “If it’s so bad rooming with Tord, why didn’t you start working on the pool?”

“I, uh…” The thought didn’t even cross his mind after Tord revealed the contents of the vial he drank.

“Yes, Tom,” Tord starts through giggles, lifting his head up. “Why haven’t you fixed your old room?”

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear that from you.”

“You know, you should have just told me if you were in love with me, maybe I would have swept you right off your feet-”

“I really wish you would die right now.”

“That really explains so much! You sleepwalking, your-”

Tom ducks under the table, pushing past Matt and Edd’s legs to get out of the booth. “I am walking home!” he announces. Tord starts laughing again, even louder, as Tom bolts.

He slows down when he’s out of sight of the diner. His escape probably made his position seem even worse, but maybe Tord will have the decency for once to explain that they aren’t together, and come up with a better cover story than whatever Tom could have dreamed of. But that was… humiliating at best.

Dating Tord? Absolutely not. No way. Disgusting. He’d rather die, thanks. Or kill Tord himself, if he could. Ugh, this monster thing is the worst- why did he ever have to be so stupid as to drink a mystery vial in a lab with toxic waste and danger signs everywhere? What an idiot. He ducks into an alley to catch his breath, suddenly feeling sick.

He doesn’t know how long he spends leaning against the brick wall, trying to get a grip on himself, but he’s broken out of his haze by Tord’s voice. “Tom?” Tom covers his eyes with his hand, sickened further by how much he likes Tord saying his name. “Ah, there you are,” he heads him murmur before footsteps approach him.

“I thought you might still be somewhere on this route,” Tord says, taking his wrist and pulling it down. “Didn’t even make it home, hm?”

“Shut up,” Tom sighs. “I feel sick.”

“Ohhh? Because Edd hit too close to home, maybe?” he grins sharply at him. “Or maybe because you’re an idiot who still hasn’t eaten today?” he continues, lifting up a carry-out bag.

“Stop acting like that.”

“…like what?” Tord asks, with just a hint of confusion.

“Like you care.” As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he feels like an idiot. Tord really didn’t need that look into his insecurities. “Whatever, just give me the food-”

“Oh, classic, stupid Tom,” Tord murmurs, going to pet him. “Of course I care. You’re my monster, remember? I can’t let you starve to death.”

“Shut up,” he mutters weakly. “And stop that.”

Tord snickers. “But you like it. Maybe you really are in love with me?”

“Stop saying that-”

“But it’s so sweet! The monster falls in love with the creator-”

“You didn’t create me-”

“Close enough, right?” Tord feels too close. The hand petting him is too much, and Tom can’t even smell the garbage a few feet away over the scent of Tord’s soap. It’s intoxicating. “I do believe, Tom, that you’re a little too fond of me now. I wonder if it’s the softness corrupting your view on me? Tell me, what do you want right now?”

“I want… you to back off,” Tom says, unconvincingly. It makes Tord laugh, so he tries again. “I want…” The scent is so strong like this, and Tord’s face is too close to his. “I want-”

“Tell-” Tord starts, but before he can finish, Tom’s lips are on his.

The kiss lasts only for a second before Tom pulls back hard, hitting the back of his head on the wall. He feels even sicker- why did he do that? How stupid could he possibly be? His head hurts. To try to- no, to succeed at kissing Tord- he’ll never live it down, there’s no way Tord would want to kiss him anyway, why the hell would he- what an idiot, he shouldn’t even be alive-

And everything disappears.

When he comes to, it’s dark out. He blinks a few times, mind feeling hazy. A blackout, then. He shudders and lifts his head, only to realize it was in Tord’s lap. They’re still in an alleyway, though he can’t be sure it’s the same one. This one is pretty trashed. “Sleep well?” Tord asks mockingly.

“Whh, what…” he slurs, his mouth feeling wrong.

Tord grabs his face and tilts his head back, gently pulling his mouth open to look at it. “Oh, fangs are still present, that’s interesting… the rest of you changed back a few minutes ago.”

“Did I…?”

“Mhm. You transformed. Became a big, scary monster.” Tord releases his face and grins at him. “Any idea what feelings caused it?”

Tom thinks back, and while Tord seems to think it’s something embarrassing, he thinks he knows otherwise. When he feels like he can speak properly again, he answers. “…self-loathing, probably.”

“…huh?”

“I wanted to die.”

“…” Tord snorts. “Oh, kissing me is not that bad.” He stands, and goes to help Tom up, too. He only realizes he isn’t wearing anything when Tord tosses him a shopping bag, and he notices clothes inside it. Not his, but they’ll fit, at least. “I had to buy those while you were transformed. Not that you made it easy, trying to follow me out of the alleyway…”

He gets dressed, not bothering to respond.

“You’ll have to pay me back,” Tord tells him. “But let’s go home.” It feels lacking, to not discuss what happened any further, but he doesn’t bring it up as he starts walking back to the house with him.

Tord brings it up instead. “So, about that kiss…”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it was so sweet! My Tom, kissing me in a fit of passion-”

Tom shoves him, embarrassed, and Tord stumbles away laughing. The laugh cuts off just as Tom realizes what just happened. They look at each other in silence for a long moment before Tom clenches his fist and hits Tord in the arm, not too hard. Nothing stops him.

“Oh, damn,” Tord sighs. “I really hoped my immunity would last longer. I wonder if it was the kiss or the transformation that did it…? Ah, but you were still so sweet to me in monster form...”

“That’s fine. As long as I can do whatever I want like this.”

“Oh? And what do you want to do as a human, my Tom? Kiss me again?”

“No,” he lies with the first genuine smile he’s had in a while. “No, I don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at yellowleader


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